


written in stone

by legendarylezbian



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 21:15:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20264614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendarylezbian/pseuds/legendarylezbian
Summary: Hecate and Marigold keep winding up in enclosed spaces together out of no fault of their own, and Hecate suspects the other teachers.





	written in stone

Hecate's suspicion of Miss Mould dissipates over time, but there are moments when she's not entirely sure what Ada sees in her. While Miss Mould waxes poetic at meal times about creativity and art and setting your muse free, Hecate tries to listen, she really does. Miss Cackle obviously hired her for a reason. Hecate can't deny that she has quite an imagination, but how that qualifies her for a job at a traditional and upstanding institution like Cackles Academy is a mystery. One that Hecate is still determined to solve. She hasn't had much free time lately, thanks to the never-ending mishaps that seem to happen daily.

One Sunday afternoon, she's in her office grading papers when she's suddenly transferred to a closet somewhere below stairs, near the kitchens. She can't tell whose magic transferred her; only a teacher would have that kind of power, but she can't trace it. 

She sees Miss Mould suddenly transfer in front of her, and the door locks as Miss Mould blinks in surprise. 

"What did you bring me here for?" Miss Mould asks, turning so she can try the doorknob. "And in a closet, of all things. How ironic." 

"Don't play coy," Hecate snaps, deciding to disregard her last comment. "You're the one who transferred me here. So? What is so urgent?"

"Nothing," Miss Mould frowns, finally letting go of the locked doorknob. "I--I didn't transfer you. I--don't know what's going on."

"No matter," Hecate says. "I have better things to do with my time, and I'm sure you do as well."

Hecate waves her hands, surprised to find that her transfer spell isn't working. She tries a few more times before narrowing her eyes at the room. There must be an anti-magic charm surrounding them. Who would go to all this trouble to get her and Miss Mould alone?

Ada wouldn't betray her like this. Not unless she'd been feeling particularly meddlesome. Miss Bat doesn't have the presence of mind, and Algernon isn't this nosy. That leaves Miss Drill, which...makes some amount of sense, since she actually likes Miss Mould. 

"What's wrong?" Miss Mould asks softly. 

"I can't transfer out," Hecate replies, in her signature deceptively calm voice. "It appears no magic will work in here."

Miss Mould pulls out her maglet, frowning at it. She taps it against her palm and sighs. "Well, I'll be. Looks like we're stuck here for the time being."

"Yes. How observant of you." Hecate says, her spirits sinking. This is the last thing she'd been wanting to do on her day off. Once she gets out of here...

"I know that look," Miss Mould chuckles. "What kind of revenge plot are you cooking up?"

"Why would I tell you?"

Miss Mould looks around and gestures in the confined space, taking a step further into the room. Closer to Hecate. 

Hecate feels the wall against her back, and she stands up straighter, not breaking eye contact with Miss Mould. She mentally reaches into her limited repertoire of facial expressions and uses a glare that she's perfected over years of practice, but it doesn't seem to have any effect on the other witch.

"Who am I going to tell? We're alone here."

Hecate is aware of that. She's been spending all of term making sure something like this wouldn't happen. Transferring away from all the people she doesn't want to talk to has worked well for her so far. Why stick around for awkward moments and mindless small talk when you have magic?

Hecate cracks her knuckles slowly, trying not to feel nervous at how close the other witch is. She's literally backed her into a corner, and Hecate can feel her cheeks flushing, which is odd. She takes a deep breath. "The things I'm planning would be sure to get me fired. I could go with a classic choice and turn all the teachers into toads, but then I'd be stuck teaching all the lessons."

"Toads," Miss Mould nods in approval. "Nice. I would have gone with frogs, myself, but I'm not as original as you are."

"Of course you are," Hecate says, without thinking twice about it. The fact that she just paid a teacher she doesn't like a compliment doesn't register until she sees Miss Mould look up at her with raised eyebrows. "I--only mean that I've seen some of your paintings. You are gifted, Miss Mould. Truly."

"Thank you," Miss Mould says. "And you can call me Marigold."

Hecate dips her head politely, and expects that the other witch will step back, maybe distract herself with finding a way out of here, but she stays close, and Hecate doesn't let her posture relax. The truth is, she has never been locked in a closet with a witch she's not fond of.  
Whoever locked them in here probably did it for them to get along. 

Maybe it was Miss Cackle. She'd performed the friendship spell on Mildred Hubble and Ethel Hallow, after all.

"Any ideas for how to get out of here?" Miss Mould tugs at the scarf in her hair, freeing her frizzy hair and running her hand through it. 

"No," Hecate sniffs. "I was hoping you might have some."

Marigold doesn't say anything, just steps closer to the door and starts banging on it and calling for help. Hecate rolls her eyes and leans further into the wall, crossing her arms over her chest.

Marigold stops pounding on the door, and after a few moments, Miss Tapioca opens the door, asking them how on earth they'd managed this. 

"I'll let you know when I find out," Marigold says, then leaves the room without a glance in Hecate's direction. 

It hurts more than it should. It's no surprise that Marigold wouldn't want to be stuck with her, and the feeling is mutual, obviously.

\----

Ada had nothing to do with it, and after interrogating each of the teachers, Hecate comes to the conclusion that she imagined the whole thing. Perhaps it was a dual hallucination due to tiredness or--

She hadn't had any of the witch's brew, but maybe Marigold had slipped some into her tea?

Hecate goes back to being suspicious of the art teacher, and she spends more time than she'd like to admit trying to figure out what her motives are. If she's playing a long game, then Hecate will be patient. She's quite good at that. 

\----

It happens three times in one week, which is just ridiculous. Hecate would be doing something important, like teaching or reprimanding students, and she'd suddenly find herself in that infernal closet by the kitchen, along with a bewildered looking Marigold, who is usually covered in paint.

The third time it happens, during a lesson, Hecate waits for Marigold to show up, and readies a handkerchief in her palm.  
When Marigold appears, she's holding a huge pot, and she almost drops it as she sees Hecate looming above her.

"Miss Hardbroom! I--oh bats. Of course I'm here again."

"Don't sound too enthused," Hecate deadpans. "One might think you actually enjoy my company."

Marigold places the pot down on the ground and brushes some hair out of her face. "Please. Anyone can see that you'd rather be turned into a dust mite than spend time with me. This must be torture for you."

"It is not so terrible," Hecate allows after a few moments. "You are surprisingly resourceful. Your ideas for how to get out of here have been--unique, to say the least."

"I really have no idea who could be doing this," Marigold says, biting her lip as she begins to pace in the confined space. More like sidestepping, really. "If it's none of the teachers--"

"You are not suggesting that the school has somehow achieved sentience," Hecate says, and it's not a question. "That would be impossible. Besides, why would it be so determined for us to spend time together?"

"Maybe because things would run smoother if we got along?" Marigold suggests, then holds up her hands at Hecate's expression. "It's just a guess."

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wrote a long time ago that I never posted because it's kind of corny, but whatever. I've been lacking inspiration lately and I hope this kind of jumpstarts my muse.


End file.
